Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(80)

That resulted in murmurs of delight. Several of the men nodded; they were temped, but it still wasn’t enough.

Rue looked to Floote. “What else might they like? I have a great number of shoes and Primrose has hats and parasols and such. I don’t suppose…”

“They might like the parasols.”

“I’m going to need Primrose at this juncture. I can’t trade away a lady’s accessories without her knowledge any more than I can trade away her person. In Prim’s case, the accessories likely carry more weight. Percy, go and fetch your sister, please. And ask her to bring as many of her least favourite parasols as she can spare.”

Percy stood, grumbling. “Don’t you dare give them my books while I’m away.”

He left.

Floote said, “I suppose he knows they can’t read?”

“It would never occur to Percy that anyone couldn’t read. Don’t burst his bubble. I prefer him worried. And nothing makes Percy more worried than the possibility of diminishing his library.”

The twins returned momentarily and there was a murmur of dissent as Primrose drew up a deck chair, joining the circle behind where Percy and Rue sat. Primrose would never sit on the floor of anything for any reason. Ever. International incident or not.

While Anitra said something that seemed to soothe matters over the presence of a foreign female in a deck chair, Rue turned to her friend.

“We’re in sticky negotiations, asking them to continue escorting us. I’ve had some luck offering up most of the ship’s sugar stores. Sorry. Now we were thinking maybe your parasols would appeal.”

“Oh, were we?”

“I’ll buy you replacements when we return to London.”

Prim grinned. “Only funning. Of course you may have them. Well, not all of them, but most will be out of fashion by the time we get home anyway. I’ll be receiving one of your mother’s specials as well. I have decoration plans for that, which should result in not needing most of these.” She gestured and Spoo staggered forward to dump a full dozen parasols of different shapes, sizes, colours, and decorations in the centre of the circle.

While the visitors crowded forward, grabbing for their favourites, Rue said, “That’s very generous, Prim. Thank you.”

“And you mock me for my excessive accessory collection.”

“Never! I’d give them my shoes if I could.”

“Just goes to show you that parasols trump shoes every time.”

Rue didn’t argue because, really, Primrose was being very philanthropic.

“Any other ideas?”

Between them they managed to come up with more offerings. All their available perfume oils, several bars of soap, glassware from the table setting, two silver candlesticks, three thick fuzzy carpets showing Uncle Rabiffano’s impeccable taste, two dozen scones, some muffins, several tins of spices, and four of Prim’s least favourite hats were offered up.

And they had an agreement.

Still the Drifters seemed reluctant to make any concrete promises.

“It’s not that they don’t find the goods sufficient,” explained Anitra, when Rue and Primrose began scrabbling for more disposable offerings. “It’s that they believe the quest ill-omened.”

“Why?”

Anitra shrugged. “There has been no sign or portent.”

“How do we arrange a portent?” Rue was not above fabricating fate, if it would not be tempted.

At which moment Footnote came striding up, because cats have perfect timing when they care to use it. Tail high, the little tuxedo was enjoying full run of the ship with Tasherit confined to her room. Upon seeing the assembly, Footnote, being a social beastie, strutted into the exact centre of the circle. Naturally, with everyone focused there, he assumed the pile of objects was his by rights.

The crowd fell into a shocked silence as the cat trotted around, twitching his whiskers at hats, parasols, perfume bottles, and sugar loafs, batting at this or that. The silence stretched as he made a second wider circle, sniffing everyone’s feet. The Drifters held perfectly still. Satisfied that he had claimed everything for cat-kind, Footnote flopped in front of Percy, showing his belly – cat language for “scratch my neck but don’t you dare actually touch the belly”. Footnote had handsome white tummy markings which went up to his throat. He also had white spats, impressively long white whiskers, and a white tail tip. He was quite the natty dresser. After receiving the requisite neck scratches, he sat back up, stuck his rear foot high into the air, and proceeded to give himself a good wash in a most indelicate area.

Primrose was enormously embarrassed. She bent forward from her chair to shoo him away.

Floote stopped her. “No, Miss Tunstell, watch.”

A murmur of excitement buzzed through the circle. The visiting leaders began talking to one another in hushed tones.

The suppressed tension made Rue nervous. She reached for her second-hand parasol, gripping the knobby handle that activated various secret weapons. She began categorising the armaments in her head, wondering what might be most effective on such a large number of people.

Floote said, “I don’t think that will be necessary, Lady Akeldama. See?”

Ay spoke and Anitra translated. “We have a deal.”

Rue was shocked. “What?”

“The decoy ladybugs will have their escorts away from here. My family, along with Ay’s, have agreed to continue southward with you.”